


Two Little Girls From Little Rock

by Femme_Fatale_0335



Category: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, how does one even tag one's fanfiction abt 1950s romantic comedies, idk what else???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femme_Fatale_0335/pseuds/Femme_Fatale_0335
Summary: gentlemen prefer blondes except it's gay(er)
Relationships: Lorelei Lee/Dorothy Shaw
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	Two Little Girls From Little Rock

**Author's Note:**

> gentlemen prefer blondes is gay as fuck and i wrote this bc i was mad that it wasn't actually abt lesbians

The first time Dorothy kissed Lorelei, they had just received good news – their contract had been renewed, and Lorelei had come in to tell her the news. She had taken her in her arms and hugged her, both of them deliriously happy, and, without thinking, Dorothy had kissed her. It had just felt _right_. Lorelei had kissed back, and they hadn’t really talked about it much after. It hadn’t been necessary. It wasn’t even an awkward sort of silence; it was like they had both sort of tacitly agreed that sometimes, you kiss your best friend because you’re emotional, and you don’t bother talking about it because it doesn’t really matter.

Dorothy understood that Lorelei had plans, and she probably wasn’t part of those plans. Unless she could figure out a way to become a wealthy man, that is. It had been a given for the entirety of their friendship: as soon as Lorelei found herself a millionaire, she was out, and Dorothy was alone. But knowing your relationship with the best friend you had ever had had an expiry date didn’t make it hurt any less when that date inevitably came. But there was no use complaining. No point in making Lorelei feel bad. So when her friend introduced her to Gus Esmond, Dorothy said nothing. Even as the weeks turned to months and she began to feel more and more that this whole arrangement was making her miserable, Dorothy kept her mouth shut and forced herself to be happy for Lorelei. She would not, under any circumstances, do anything to mar Lorelei’s happiness, no matter how much it was eating her alive.

When watching Lorelei drift further and further away from her started to be too much for her, Dorothy resolved to find herself a man as well. She knew she probably wouldn’t love him, but a loveless marriage was better than a life of solitude. And besides, if she got married then maybe her mother would finally stop acting like she had sold her virtue or something all because she had gone into show business. She didn’t mind the idea of being a housewife, either. Maybe then she could be invisible. No longer a showgirl in a sequined gown and heels, showing herself off for an audience every night; just Mrs. Someone-or-Other in her sensible shoes and gingham aprons, smiling serenely in the background. Maybe meeting up with Lorelei once a month for coffee, reminiscing about their days in show business, laughing about how wild and crazy they had been back then, then going home to her husband and feeling fine, not happy or sad, just O.K. Maybe if you couldn’t have happiness, stability was the next best thing.

The trip to Paris was torture. Dorothy couldn’t stand to be alone with Lorelei now that the shadow of Gus Esmond loomed over them, a constant reminder that the time left for Lorelei and Dorothy to just be Lorelei and Dorothy was slowly dwindling. Soon enough, they would be Mrs. Esmond and her single friend Dorothy from her showgirl days. Dorothy knew how it would go: Lorelei would promise to keep in touch, but before long, there wouldn’t be any room left for Dorothy in her new life. A showgirl from Arkansas would stick out like a sore thumb in the high-society set Lorelei was marrying into – never mind that Lorelei was a showgirl from Arkansas too. Lorelei was a chameleon; she could be anything she needed to be, and if what she needed to be was a high society trophy wife and not a rough-around-the-edges dancer, then a high-society trophy wife was what she would be.

On the boat, Dorothy found her target: the man whose wife she would allow herself to become. Ernie Malone had tried flirting with her a few times, and he seemed about as nice a guy as she would be able to get. He loved her, and she liked him, and that was as good as it was going to get. She resolved to become Mrs. Malone. A perfectly respectable thing to be.

But even as she did everything she could to get Lorelei out of trouble and ensure that none of her hijinks would make their way back to her fiancé’s father, Dorothy couldn’t help feeling like she wouldn’t be entirely unhappy if Esmond _did_ break off the engagement. But then, Lorelei would just find herself another rich idiot to marry. If there was one thing Lorelei didn’t do, it was give up. Dorothy had loved that about her, but now she hated it. Funny how people’s virtues turned into flaws when they started using those virtues in ways that hurt you.

So Lorelei married her millionaire and became the upper-crust arm candy she wanted to be, and Dorothy married Ernie Malone and became the suburban housewife she had resigned herself to becoming. And they met every other Thursday for coffee, and they reminisced about their past. But Dorothy didn’t feel fine, she felt miserable. For a while she tried just not seeing Lorelei, but that was worse. So one of those Thursday afternoons, the November after the wedding, as they were sitting in Lorelei’s living room, the last dregs of the coffee long since gone cold, Dorothy kissed her again. This time, they did talk about it, and the next day, they both filed for divorce.

Living with Lorelei in an apartment in the city, Dorothy realized that she didn’t have to choose between happiness and stability: she could have both. She could wear sensible shoes and gingham aprons and smile serenely in the background, and she could do it with the woman she loved.


End file.
